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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29798922">All the way through your bed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/grauenaugen/pseuds/Augen'>Augen (grauenaugen)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Let us take this to the end [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Break Up, Cheating, Established Relationship, House magic, Hurt, M/M, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:20:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,423</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29798922</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/grauenaugen/pseuds/Augen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is not surprised the wards let him in. He's cast half of the new ones at this point, the old ones recognize his ancestry. But half of him wishes the damn house was impenetrable. That The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black would have decided for him. Or even better, that Harry would have decided to leave him out of the house, out of his life.<br/>One clean cut. Deep and painful, but ready to heal itself with time and little scar tissue.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Let us take this to the end [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2204124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>144</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All the way through your bed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello. English is not my mother tongue and I have been trying to improve myself so I decided to write my first ff in English. It was very difficult and basically my betas are free grammar checkers and ggle translate. I also do not know the words that are part of British slang (because I have not read the books in their original language) and I know that I use very simple words, but I tried to do my best. Please let me know if you find errors to fix and get better! Thank you for reading.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco is not surprised the wards let him in. He's cast half of the new ones at this point, the old ones recognize his ancestry and the house is well aware of his l...</p><p>But half of him wishes the damn house was impenetrable. That The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black would have decided for him. Or even better, that Harry would have decided to leave him out of the house, out of his life. One clean cut. Deep and painful, but ready to heal itself with time and little scar tissue.</p><p>He didn't think this through and maybe he should have planned something more than carrying boxes and suitcases in his pockets. He plans, he is a cunning strategist bastard. He thinks carefully. Not lately, of course, he's trying not to think at all.</p><p>But he is here now to collect his things while Harry is out, to avoid him. Avoid those impossible emerald green eyes and the moppy soft hair he will never be able to touch again.</p><p>He looks at the living room. The hearth without fire, the sun casting shadows and the glittery motes dancing in the sunbeams. The mustard yellow sofa, pillows un-puffed, some on the floor. The three blankets thrown here and there. The red one, the green one and the patchy one made by Mrs Weasley as a home warming gift when he moved in, it's for their bed, but Draco likes to look at it, drape himself in it whilst reading, soft and full of memories.</p><p>One square with Hogwarts' coats of arms. Two with their initials. Many depicting their friends and families: Quidditch and a heart with a G, a chess knight with an R, books and H, a pansy flower with a P. One with a measuring tape like those used by Madam Malkin's staff. Two for hands that don't shake and one for hands that do touch. Two with a big hippogriff, one angry and one happy, flying into the night. Four in the shape of animagus, and yes, even the rat is there. One with a black cauldron with an embroidered "always" in red. One with Dobby and a sock that puts his father in a temper and Harry likes to display every time he visits, not that it happens often. One has a snitch and the other has a tree and Pansy loves to tell the story of when she '<em>helped him climb just to piss off Potter. What a drama queen</em>', she always says and he chuckles a little.</p><p>One that looks like a mirror stained with blood, an ugly memory, but crucial, theirs. One that's just fire, fiendfyre. One for an invisibility cloak (to follow him around the castle). Two with food: treacle tart and french pastries as the ones his mother used to send him every week at school. One with a wand, his... <em>theirs</em>. Two pretty ones with flowers, one with a lily, one with a daffodil. One with a key, the one Harry gave him when he asked him to move in. The whole handmade blanket a token of their love. The one that doesn't exist anymore.</p><p>He wants to take it with him. He hasn't told Molly yet but he cried that night, nor that her mother did too. Sometimes he cries recalling some of the events of his past. He cries thinking things are better now despite how much he screwed up. Were better.</p><p>Some old quidditch magazines in the coffee table and takeout, two wine glasses and a bottle. He tries not to think about it. Half-empty firewhisky.</p><p>He should just summon his belongings and run away because he's that coward after all, but he isn't sure his magic knows what's his and what's not. What do you do with everything that's <em>theirs</em>? How do you split a teacup, a photograph, a book, a bed or a plant without destroying the items while rendering them useless in the process? Maybe that's the point, he thinks, <em>they </em>don't exist anymore so their belongings shouldn't exist either, there is no place for them. Maybe he should smash everything. He has a penchant for darkness or that's what everybody says, right? No one would be surprised.</p><p>So he walks slowly, admiring the house that shudders a little under his touch, he can feel it. He caresses the tables, the chairs, the paintings, the stairs and doors and walls, as the dust collects in his fingertips and for once he isn't angry about that, for now it's an offering from the house. It shows something that he knows too well: he is stained, nothing good is meant to last. Maybe the house just wants to stick with him a little longer.</p><p>The kitchen is the starting point because that's where they kissed for the first time. He was hiding from the party upstairs. Draco should have learned that <em>hiding </em>and <em>Harry </em>don't mix well as the latter can't simply let things go, their sixth year is proof of that. And Harry isn't good at hiding either. Draco is good at discovering Harry, at recognizing his traces. That's why he sees them everywhere around the kitchen. The chair he prefers (back to the window). Where he likes to rest his weight while drinking tea standing up when no one is home. How he likes to keep the sugar in an old earthenware salt sellar because the sugar bowl broke and he likes playing childish pranks on people. Where he likes to keep the knives and wooden spoons because he cooks <em>à la</em> muggle. He says it tastes better but Molly has never cooked that way and her food is brilliant. Not as good as Harry's. He might be biased.</p><p>He opens the cabinet and grabs his mug. The one Harry gave him. It's his. <em>His</em>. They don't share mugs because Harry likes normal sized cups and Draco likes to drink his tea in the study and needs lots of it, immediately and hot. But it's also Harry's and he feels like a traitor for taking the mug with him as if he was a kidnapper, <em>mug</em>napper? He feels like an intruder too, the kitchen creaks. But he is here already.</p><p>Draco pulls his wand out of the holster and mutters an <em>accio</em>. Everything rattles but nothing goes to him. Pans and food are doubting, maybe rejecting him even. He feels anger gathering in his throat and just grabs the mug. Is <em>his</em>. He <em>reductio </em>the bloody thing. It's his mug even if he decides to break it into a thousand pieces after leaving. Harry gave it to him and Harry can sod off if he thinks he can keep his mug just because it's his house.</p><p>He walks the stairs again. The bathroom. He <em>engorgio </em>one of the bags he brought and after a wand movement, his toiletries gave up and float to storage themself. They don't keep many things here. Harry's hair is a disaster but naturally -and unfairly- soft. And he just has two tailor-made potions to avoid split ends that his father gave him last Christmas. He can't avoid lightly touching Harry's muggle dental floss. He leaves behind the dittany, sleeping draught, calming draught, pepperup and wound cleaning potions. He can brew them on his own and Auror Potter needs them more. He takes his toothbrush flinching and doubting because it's a very decisive moment, he is leaving, for real. Another wand movement, a muttered <em>reductio </em>and the bag is tiny, light and safe in his pocket.</p><p>He walks to his study, Harry has his own, red and gold. This one is blue, serene. Blue was his favourite colour until Harry sodding Potter and his green eyes looked at him with something else beside hate. A little while ago he didn't remember what hatred looked like in Harry's eyes but now he clings to it, he knows there was a world where Harry rejected his touch. He lived there for many years, he can live there now too. He doesn't need eyes filled with endearment. He can forget that green is the colour of love. He can forget eyes darkened by desire, eyes sparkling by a dangerous idea, half-lidded bedroom eyes looking at him under the morning sun and a mouth saying '<em>just five more minutes'</em> while hiding under the duvet. Or fingers caressing down his belly to make him stay in bed for more than just five minutes but with no rest in mind.</p><p>His study looks the same, which isn't rare as he cast a room-sealing spell every time he's out. Everything's in order, clean. It smells like himself, fresh citrus notes here and there, his favourite ink and parchment. Dark magical objects throbbing. He wants to destroy everything, he can't go back to work and face Harry. Instead, he grabs two suitcases from his pockets and even the smallest crumpled paper ball float easily inside them. The objects take more time, protecting spells and wards are difficult to move when dark magic is involved, but that's why he is one of the best curse breakers working for the Ministry. Two and a half hours later and the room is empty. He closes the door, no sealing spell, he will never work there again.</p><p>He walks to the library and a new box is now full of dancing floating books, his. The majority of the books left on the shelves belong to the Black family, to the house. He will miss Grimmauld's books, dark as they are, old and wise as they are. He wanted to read all of them and thought '<em>I have all the time in the world to hide in here and avoid listening to Harry singing while cooking to loud muggle punk music Sirius loved</em>'. He would miss that too. And the leather jacket. And the motorbike and that time they had sex there, how ashamed Harry was after and how much he apologized to Sirius. But Harry, sweet, sometimes shy, very sarcastic, always mumbling and brave Harry in a leather jacket and a bike is sex on legs. He knows. Others know too. Draco will never be ashamed of that memory, back pain, bruises and all. However, the sensible thing is to forget.</p><p>Draco is too tired by now. He takes out a box and decides to <em>accio </em>everything he remembers but nothing comes, he tries again and again until some things start to float in his direction, slowly. He tries again, caressing the walls and saying '<em>please, please let me have my belongings, let me leave while I can</em>'. He thinks the house is listening and helps him because the items are packing themselves now.</p><p>He was so afraid of the house the few times his mother took him there when he was a toddler. It was dark and gloomy with scary dead house-elf's heads around. They went for official matters mostly, as it was her mother's aunt who lived there, but she told him that the house was like that even when people lived there and she was a young girl. Always murky, always judging.</p><p>The Grimmauld he knows doesn't judge... much. It's warm and cosy. And it was reformed by people's love and forgiveness, just like Draco. They have that in common. He caresses it slowly, gathering the courage to walk to the bedroom. To their bedroom. To Harry's now.</p><p>Everything belongs to Harry now.</p><p>Is difficult to put a foot in there again after the quiet screaming, the runaway, the trail of clothes on the floor. The smell and sounds and the face Harry made, forever engraved in his mind. He shooks his head and takes, by hand, the books and other things on his nightstand. He leaves the lube, the one he brews in his study because is better than the store made. And it's theirs. Was. Not anymore. Harry can keep it.</p><p>He throws the vial, it smashes against the wall. The translucent golden liquid spills slowly, like honey. For a minute he wants to pick up the glass shards because Harry likes to walk barefoot around the house. He fights his hand and wand and leaves them there. It's not like it matters anymore.</p><p>He opens the wardrobe while holding his breath, he knew it would be the worst part because it smells like them, their colognes combined. He <em>engorgio </em>a suitcase and again, thanks to willpower and house magic, he gets most of his belongings. The first item that flies to his hand is a 'Go Gryffindor' quidditch team shirt with a snitch at the back, Harry gave it to him as a birthday present, the kinky prat. And Draco has worn it, of course he has, just as Harry has worn his Slytherin tie.</p><p>The ownership of the scarves is indecipherable. They smell of both of them. And now it's just too much and Draco can't help himself anymore, he tried, really tried, but he's week. He grabs a handful and buries his face in them. Vanilla, treacle tart, butterbeer, food spices, musk, citrus, lavender and a mixture of potion's ingredients, parchment, ink, broom wax... magic. He is so used to Harry's magic he can smell it and feel it in his bones. He can recognize it. Wandless, non-verbal, powerful, soft.</p><p>But Draco is hurt. He can be weak, but he thrives when self-preservation is needed. Right here and now he's strong. A quick wand motion and his scarves, jumpers, pants and shoes are packed, even the ones Harry wear sometimes. He will cast an <em>incendio </em>later, probably. But now they are his and Harry will not smell him anymore.</p><p>He goes a little step further and <em>scourgify </em>the whole room. Of course, most of their scent lingers after years of living together, but it's better than nothing and the charm definitely cleared some of Draco's shadow.</p><p>Harry does not deserve to hold on to domesticities.</p><p>He doesn't deserve to have a piece of Draco when he had a man in their sheets. Using their lube. Moaning into their pillows. It hurts to remember. Harry deep inside a man on their bed, the one they bought together, custom made, just for the two of them. Half of the mattress is soft, half's firm.</p><p>So he walks to the window and opens it, lets the breeze cleanse the place.</p><p>He takes everything into his pocket and decides to leave the Gryffindor shirt behind. Harry can dress his future fucks in that while riding them like a broom, or the other way around. He doesn't care anymore.</p><p>He keeps caressing the walls and <em>accio </em>the photographs he loves. He leaves behind the ones with Harry and takes the one with the whole Weasley Granger Delacour Johnson -and so forth- family, Draco in the middle with Molly hugging him -strangling him- and winking at Harry, the photographer. Draco likes that one very much, so he takes it. Harry is not there. But then again, Harry is in everything.</p><p>Who cares? That is his photo with the bloody redheads. Eleven-year-old Draco would have admitted him to St Mungo's Janus Thickey Ward, declaring him insane, under<em> imperius</em>, alcohol abuse or too many pastries. He takes the muggle one with Teddy and Andromeda. Teddy with white blonde hair on his nan's lap.</p><p>He walks to the living room. Everything packed already. All that is left behind will be forgotten. His knees shake and he must sit on the sofa, head resting between his hands, a lump in his throat, something stinging in his eyes.</p><p>The house caresses him, recognizing him as a member of the Black family? Yes. As an owner? Not anymore. As Harry's lover? Never again. But as someone who loves the man who lives in the house, as someone who loves that home. <em>Theirs</em>. He feels a pang just by thinking the word.</p><p>The house wonders if he can forgive. If there is forgiveness in him. He has been atoned before. He knows in the flesh and dark mark that people make mistakes. That sometimes people hurt without meaning to.</p><p>But he knows Harry.</p><p>He knows Harry <em>wanted </em>to fuck the junior auror.</p><p>The git's been flirting with Harry since he started his training. He's been there, loosening the knots in Harry's back through well-intentioned massages. Giving him food and asking after his friends and family, saying Teddy is a remarkably talented young man. Probably absentmindedly licking the cream from the treacle tart in front of Harry as Draco has done so many times, it's easy to discover what gets him off, Deputy Head Auror Potter isn't that hard to read. The tosser even said '<em>Mr. Malfoy is quite fit, boss, you are a very lucky man'</em>, because Harry is a jealous twat. Draco knows it all, he was near their pub table when he saw the arse licking the foam from his lips while looking intensely into Harry's eyes across the table, making a little sound with his tongue just like Harry likes it.</p><p>He knows. He saw the game so many times. He marked Harry with kisses and lovebites, held his hand in the middle of the Ministry - although he very much dislikes public displays of affection during working hours - and attended pub nights. But in the end, he decides to trusts The Chosen One because he loves him and Harry chose him. Harry chose Draco.</p><p>Until he chose someone else.</p><p>Draco is silently crying, hiding his face, biting his lips, forgetting how to breathe. The house creaks ever so softly and Draco feels Harry in his bones. In his magic core. He considers whether to yell, fight, flight or hex him. Perhaps ask why? Perhaps ask how dare you? Perhaps a cruel remark? fighting him is familiar ground after all.</p><p>He decides to look up. No masks. He is tired, exhausted, forever doomed to fail.</p><p>Harry is looking back, tense, wrinkled auror robes, stubble, round glasses, crazy hair. Green eyes.</p><p>Snape cared for him. He should have listened to the Potions Master, he should have learned from his life story that those green eyes would ache deep in his chest until his dying breath. Because no one has green eyes like those. Well, Lily, of course. But he is sure hers weren't as perfect. Biased again.</p><p>Harry's Adam's apple is bobbing silently, he wants to talk but Draco won't let him.</p><p>"I collected my things. I wanted to end before you got back from work."</p><p>"Draco..."</p><p>"I am leaving. Can't live here anymore."</p><p>"It was a mistake. I... I don't love him if that's..."</p><p>He knows.</p><p>"I know."</p><p>"We can work it out, we can... we. I am sorry. I am sorry, Draco, I am sorry, I'm sorry" he repeats this in a stream of words that lose their meaning but are real.</p><p>He knows.</p><p>"I am sorry too."</p><p>"Draco, please... let me explain... let me... I'll leave the DMLE, I will... I am sorry I love you I love you I love you..."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>He knows.</p><p>"You let me down. And..." his voice breaks. He breathes, collects himself and tries again because he needs to explain.</p><p>"And one thing is being cheated, Harry. But..."</p><p>It's an important one.</p><p>"But you took him all the way through your bed. Our bed. Our home."</p><p>Harry is silent but is not crying. His hands are white and his lips form a thin line framed by a clenched jaw. He is shaking and things around the house tinkle a little. Draco knows his magic. He has been loved by his magic, he's been caressed and hurt. Healed. And if Harry were angry, every single glass, ceramic, mirror and breakable thing around the house could explode. Really angry? Probably every window around the apple. But he's sad, so the house is cold instead, very cold all of the sudden, trembling.</p><p>Harry moves his hand towards Draco, just a little, enough to make it clear that he wants to hold his. No, the hand is silently asking to be held. Words will not work, words are useless right now.</p><p>He knows. Harry knows.</p><p>Draco wants to kiss him, wants to lift his hand and touch him just once, one last time. He wants it as much as Harry wants to fight for him. For <em>them</em>.</p><p>He knows.</p><p>"Bye, Potter."</p><p>He rejects his hand and uses his surname on purpose before disapparating. Because he knows where they begin and where they end. And Draco can be a hurtful git too.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! This ff was inspired by the song 'Lonelily' by Damien Rice. </p><p>It has a second part from Harry's perspective and what happened after the break and a third about both parts, but they are longer and half in Spanish, translating word by word is a hassle!</p><p>Thank you for reading! Please, let me know the mistakes I made so I can correct them and learn!</p><p>Kudos and comments are always well received and I thank you in advance!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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